


i wanna love somebody like you

by bleuboxes



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Pining, Romance, also clary is bi, also there are no FICS in the CLACE tag and i am MAD about it, i am mad that i cant tag jace as herondale BUT, nd u kno what they say about new years smooches!, new years eve baby!!!!, so suck it haters, thats beside the point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 17:30:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17268383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuboxes/pseuds/bleuboxes
Summary: In some  cultures, it is a custom for people to kiss at the stroke of midnight on New Year's Eve.





	i wanna love somebody like you

**Author's Note:**

> i uhhh just finished qoaad and i was,, a little disappointed by it tbh. i liked all the jace and clary bits tho and the epilogue,, made my heart SOAR so uhhh yeah. thats why i wrote this. 
> 
> also its new years so yay happy 2019. this is me projecting becuase i a) stayed home and drank with my family and b) did not get a news years kiss from the guy i fancy so yeah. 
> 
> heres this.
> 
> title is from a song by joan of the same name.

Celebrating New Year’s was nothing that Clary ever really participated in before – not that it wasn’t a big deal because _hello_ it’s New York, but she never really went out to party with her friends. It was usually just a nice night with her Mom and Luke while they stayed up and watched the ball drop on their old tv. And maybe – if her mother was feeling extravagant – they’d break out the champagne.

Although, in recent years, her mother has shown a preference for prosecco.

However, this year, Clary’s been forced out her house on New Year’s Eve. Her mother had claimed it’s because she’s 20 years old and normal 20 year-olds don’t stay in on New Year’s Eve.

Both Clary and her mom know that that’s bullshit; Simon went behind Clary’s back and told her that Isabelle was having a New Year’s Eve party and if Clary doesn’t come, Isabelle would show up at Clary’s house and forcibly drag her to the party.

Clary had been hoping to avoid that outcome.

But Isabelle’s forceful threat was terrifying, and Clary knows that she wasn’t fucking around, so she gets ready – she dawns a sparkly green dress that she bought as a joke because it was on sale and Simon said it made her look like Poison Ivy; she puts on her makeup, and tights, and the warmest jacket she owns.

Clary bids her mother and Luke a Happy New Year with a nervousness that she hasn’t felt in quite some time. She tells herself there’s nothing to be worried about – Simon has been her best friend since forever, Isabelle is Clary’s closest gal-pal, and Jace and Alec and everyone else who Isabelle invited are also Clary’s friends.

_Maybe it’s just that it’s unfamiliar_ , she thinks while looking out the window wistful in Simon’s van.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

The Party is at the Lightwood household. Simon has been telling Clary how Isabelle went all out with the decorating, and Clary had believed him because that’s just how Isabelle is, but this – this is some _next level_ shit.

To begin with: the house is huge – for New York, anyway. It’s in one of those old, fancy, row-houses that’s in the nice part of town – before Clary even knew the Lightwood’s she’d been coming here to draw the details. The furniture is old – you can tell from the intricate carvings in the wooden legs of the chairs, from the nicks and dents, from the color and from the feel. It’s beautiful in the house: like a portal to a bygone time with the mixture of the furniture and the wallpaper and the little garnishes that really make a house a home.

Clary loves coming here.

She’s blown away by how Isabelle has decorated the place: fairy lights, and balloons and shiny gold and silver specks are arranged ornately along every and surface. There’s a steady stream of music (and it seems to be a healthy mix of both Isabelle’s and Simon’s song choices) which is just a little too loud to be considered hidden in the background, and there are, surprisingly, not that many people here.

It’s by no means an intimate gathering of friends (which Clary honestly would have preferred) but there is not nearly as many people here as she had expected.

Simon takes her hand and leads her around the house till they find Isabelle, who is chatting with Jace.

Simon and Jace have gotten along much better recently; which is, well, Clary isn’t sure what it is that fills her, but she’s pretty sure it’s relief. It’s not the type of relief that she’d usually feel when her friends are in disagreement – this is different.

Because she fancies Jace.

And Simon’s been her best friend since they were both in diapers, and – not to base her whole hypothetical and highly improbable romantic ventures with Jace on the opinion of her best friend – Clary doesn’t think that she’d be able to seriously go out with anyone that Simon didn’t approve of.

Which is surprisingly archaic of her, but _c'est la vie_.

But, uh, yeah – Clary _really_ likes Jace.

It was unexpected, that’s for sure. Clary doesn’t have a history of finding guys like him attractive – her past boyfriend had been mousy and cute and shy. The girlfriend before that had been timid, introspective and quiet.

All the other people she’s fancied have been nothing like Jace.

First and foremost, Jace is a blonde. Choppy, wavy honey-colored locks frame his angular face perfectly. Unlike herself, he doesn’t seem to have any freckles, but his eyes – _his eyes –_ are startling. They are a strange, beautiful golden brown color; they are piercing, discerning, and absolutely unnerving.

He’s taller than she is – by not quite a foot, but nearly. He’s one of the most athletic-looking people she’s seen – he’s by no means a hunk, but he’s too muscular for the shirts he usually wears.

And he’s got the prettiest tattoos – which Clary continues to claim that she admires because of her art-schooling.

Everyone knows she’s lying.

It’s just – Clary knows that guys like him have a type. That type does not involve tiny, red-headed, freckled art students who hang out with guys like Simon and don’t go out on New Years Eve.

Anyway, she’s known Jace for ages, and she’s survived this long knowing that she’s doomed to pining after him from afar. She can make it another year.

Not that she wants to.

She’s brought out of her thoughts by a gently punch in the shoulder – Isabelle, Jace, and Simon are all looking at her expectantly –

“Huh?” she says eloquently, unaware of what’s happening.

“Izzy was just wondering,” begins Jace with a sly grin, “who your New Year’s kiss is gonna be.”

Clary considers climbing under a metaphorical rock – but she’s good under pressure –

“Church,” she laughs, “you know how fondly he thinks of me.”

Her three friends join her in her laughter; the song changes to a My Chemical Romance song that Clary hadn’t heard since she was in middle school – Izzy also heard it, glared at Simon, and told him to change it because it was killing the mood.

“But it’s 2019,” he argues.

“Not yet, it isn’t.”

Simon shrugs while looking at Clary, then walks away; Izzy joins him.  

They leave and it’s just her and Jace. Clary quick glances at her phone – it’s only 9:30 – _aka_ it's way too early for this shit.

They make conversation briefly before Clary excuses herself and grabs a drink. She mixes herself a vodka cran (because sometimes you gotta be that bitch), takes a sip, and sighs.

It’s gonna be a long night.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The nice thing about camping out by the drinks is that she’s in constant company – she’s always talking to someone and that means Jace can’t come over and talk to her and make her all lovesick and miserable. She has a nice chat with Alec’s boyfriend, Magnus, about the space-time continuum. She chats with her friend Maia – whom she hadn’t seen in quite some time; it was nice to catch up with her.

There are more people – drunk girls and guys alike – who chat her up with _happy new year’s_  and _I love your dress_ ’s and _you look so good’s._

It’s really doing wonders to her self-confidence.

(The vodka cran’s are helping as well).

This kills about an hour.

Meaning it’s 10:30

She’s got at least two more hours of this.

The kicker is she can feel Jace looking at her. He’s in the corner at the opposite end of the room, talking with their mutual friend, Aline, but he can’t stop looking at Clary. It makes her feel vulnerable, and she’s trying desperately to look as naturally hot and pretty as possible but she’s pretty sure she’s failing.

He’s probably thinking about how stupid she looks.

And like, that’s fair – she’s sure she looks dumb, but like it’s whatever.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s then that Simon takes over the tunes, and of course – _of course_ – he plays Gasolina. He must have known how stupid she was looking and wanted her to look even more so. She had been previously engaged in conversation with some rando; she apologizes, mentioning how she has something to do, then rushes off to find Simon.

Who again, is with Izzy and Jace.

Clary doesn’t care, though. There’s something about the raw energy she gains whenever she hears Gasolina being played in public that captivates her completely.

She’s yelling the words, and dancing, and smiling; she doesn’t even realize that Simon and Izzy have left – only that the song’s changed to one of her childhood favorites, and Jace is across from her looking confused.

“Don’t tell me you don’t know this one,” she teases, “if anyone went through an emo phase, it was you.”

Jace laughs quickly – but it’s a beautiful sight. Clary pushes those feeling down and focuses on what he’s saying –

“You say that as if I’m not still going through one.”

“It’s just,” she pauses for a moment – still dancing of course, “you’re a more _refined_ emo now.”

“As if you could refine emo.”

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, “as long as you weren’t a scene kid –“

“I can’t believe,” he feigns shock, “that you – _Miss Fairchild_ – would utter such libel against me.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She sticks her tongue out as the song changes.

He winks.

The motherfucker.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She dances with Jace till Isabella shuts the music off at 11:45. Then it’s the mad rush to find the TV, to find a spot about said TV, to tune the TV to the right channel, and to figure out who’s going to be kissed by whom.

Clary is dangerously aware that she and Jace are standing next to each other in a somewhat isolated part of the room. She’s aware of the smell of his hair, of the glint in his eye, of the smile on his face. She knows he’s been flirting with her. He’s been cracking jokes with her, complimentinting her (in not so many words) and has been feigning innocence when she asks whom he intends to kiss at midnight

She knows, she knows, she knows – and all the signs are there that maybe he _fancies_ her back –

But he’s Jace and she’s Clary and it just seems too far-fetched.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It’s almost midnight. Clary can feel her heartbeat in her throat. Jace is talking to her about his latest visit to the Met – which happens to be one of her favorite places as well as his – and she tries – she really tries to pay attention, to look in his eyes when he speaks so animatedly about a place where she’s dreamed of kissing him and, _oh_ , he’s looking at her funny –

_Oh._

_She’s said that bit aloud._

Before she has a chance to explain herself, the countdown begins – he’s looking at her again. This time, it’s funnier than before.

This time she looks back.

There’s something in his eyes – perhaps hunger? Maybe adoration? – but he looks, he looks so hopeful – more so than she’s seen him in a long time.

Her green eyes connect with his golden ones, and she suddenly feels so stupid.

_10_

How had she ever thought that she’s be pining forever – how had she thought that this, _this man_  - could ever look at someone else in this way.

_9_

“You look beautiful,” he whispers – gaze unwavering. Clary feels her face heat up, “I meant to tell you before, but I never had an opportunity and it felt out of place –“

She gulps.

"It would never have been out of place."

He smiles.

_8_

_“_ Do you dream of me often?” There is the cheek she was expecting; Clary has never been good at switching from one tone to the next but –

This is not cheek. This is vulnerable and honest and genuine.

_7_

“Yes.”

_6_

“ _Clary,”_ he says her name like it’s sacred. It makes her feel like she’s important.  Like she isn’t just Clary Fairchild, isn’t just an art student, isn’t just that girl who hangs out with Jace Herondale and his friends.

It makes her feel powerful, and important, and loved.

_5_

_“_ I didn’t think you could like me like this,” she confesses, “I have loved you for _so long_ , Jace – it was beginning to feel like my burden – something that I had to keep secret.”

_4_

_“_ I’ve wanted to kiss you since I was, like 15 years old –“

_3_

“Don’t tell me it was on that field-trip –

“Where you fell into the fountain? Yeah," he chuckles, "that was the one.”

_2_

She’s still looking at him. She’s not sure why she feels like crying.

_1_

_“_ You are beautiful,” he says frankly, “and I love you.”

_Happy New Year_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Clary isn’t sure who kisses who, but it’s magical.

Kissing Jace makes her feel giddy and light and _happy._

Maybe it’s just the thrill of the new year, or maybe it’s the thrill of not making out with a cat – but this, this feels like something she could grow used to but never grow tired of.

Maybe it’s because she’s known him since she was young, maybe it’s because they’re familiar –

“Get a _room!”_ shouts Simon. Several laughs follow. Clary doesn’t even mind – which is so unlike her. Instead, she burrows herself into Jace’s chest, his arms wrap around her, and he politely responds,

“Fuck off, Lewis.”

“I love you,” she whispers into his chest. She doesn’t care if he can’t hear her, but she takes the kiss he plants on the crown of her head as confirmation _._

She smiles – a happy new year indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> pls validate me.


End file.
